


Is It Enough?

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativitwins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, OR IS IT, Pining, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Protective Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Roman loves his family.He loves them so much he’s glad he’s supposed to; the fire that burns at the center of his chest that rumbles happily when one of them smiles at him, or wraps him up in their arms, it’s so happy, so happy, so happy they’re his.That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Everyone, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Everyone, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, DLAMP, LAMP - Relationship, dlampr
Comments: 88
Kudos: 404





	Is It Enough?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the anon on tumblr who requested this!
> 
> ...yeah that fluff kick didn't really last long for me huh

**Nonny prompt:** Could you do a DLAMPR (Creativetwins) fic where Roman is having some problems because, one. He has a crush on every single one of his brothers partners and had for a long long time, and two. To avoid confronting that he begins working even harder for Thomas because he knows he can't slack off because family friendly creativity is practically the base of his whole career and now he's working himself even harder into a rut because he wants to avoid feelings?

* * *

Roman loves his family.

He loves them so much that he’s glad he’s supposed to; the fire that burns at the center of his chest that rumbles happily when one of them smiles at him, or wraps him up in their arms, it’s so happy, so happy, so happy they’re _his._

That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?

He has little things he does with each of them, just little things, nothing too big or too glamorous. Listen, it can be tiring being extravagant all the time. And the worst part is they might get _used_ to the extravagance, that’s not what he wants at all. It’s so much harder to sweep someone off their feet when they’re expecting to be swept, wouldn’t you agree? Plus, they’re all lovely in their own little ways.

He bakes with Patton. Often it’s early in the morning or afternoon, right when the Mindscape is still waking up, the coffee machine yet to be roused from its slumber, just Roman padding downstairs. Logan isn’t the earliest riser, even though he’d have you believe otherwise. No, no, Logan has a schedule, you see, where he gets up, does some work before breakfast, _then_ he has breakfast. Logan may wake up first, but he’s rarely the first downstairs. That…that’s Roman’s space.

Roman loves walking downstairs before everyone else. It’s a little like he’s a knight out on patrol, making sure it’s safe for the other denizens of the house, still asleep upstairs. He makes himself a cup of coffee, stirring it carefully so the spoon doesn’t clink against the outside of the mug, and cups it between his hands as he leans against the counter. The warm steam drifts up and he inhales gratefully, waiting until it’s cooled down just enough that he doesn’t absolutely burn his tongue.

He’ll burn his tongue a little later, but he wants to still have _some_ taste buds when that happens.

The Mindscape murmurs quietly, the low whine of the refrigerator giving way to a hum from the walls, just thrumming lightly enough to be there. Roman smiles, absentmindedly strokes the counter next to him. He’s still on his own journey to wakefulness, rising slowly enough that when he breaks the surface, he’ll be ready.

Not a moment too soon.

“Roman?”

“In here, Padre,” Roman calls, quickly fetching another mug and filling it with hot water. Sure enough, a Patton appears around the corner, still rubbing sleep from his eyes but smiling brightly when he sees Roman and the proffered mug. “Aren’t you just a ball of sunshine this morning?”

“You say that every morning, kiddo,” Patton giggles, setting the mug aside long enough to wrap Roman up in a warm hug.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Roman taps Patton’s nose with the tip of his finger. “Now, what’s on the menu for this morning?”

“Muffins!”

“Muffins it is.” Roman flicks on the oven to start preheating. “Blueberry or cinnamon sugar?”

“Do we have blueberries?” Patton peers into the freezer. “At all?”

“I can fetch some if necessary.”

“Oh, I found them!” Patton pulls out a bag victoriously and drops them onto the counter. “Eggs, right?”

“Might not want to drop those,” Roman teases, laughing when Patton pouts at him.

“I know that,” he grumbles, taking the mixing bowl from Roman as Roman starts getting out the other ingredients, “I learned my lesson.”

“Mm.” Roman leans over his shoulder to add the sugar. “And how many times did it take?”

“…several.”

“It’s okay, Padre, I’ve done it too.”

“You have?”

“Oh, yes, don’t get Logan started on what happened two weeks ago.”

“What happened two weeks ago?”

Roman shakes his head, still smiling, as he tells the story of how he was _sure_ he was putting the eggs down on the counter, not realizing he was, in fact, _not_ putting the eggs down on the counter and instead missing by about three inches and dropping them straight onto the floor. By the time he gets to the rather vivid descriptions of how the yolks splattered all over the kitchen, Patton has to put down the bowl and bend over with the force of his laughter.

This, _this_ is the best part about baking with Patton, Roman knows, when Patton’s laughing like this and it makes the fire in Roman’s chest crackle happily. Patton looks so carefree when he’s like this, all crinkly eyes and wide grins, and when he looks at Roman like _that…_

Patton tries so hard, Roman muses as he can’t resist slipping closer to give the other side a quick squeeze, so hard, all the time, and he hides it well but he always looks at least a little tired. If Roman can make that go away, even for an instant, it’s worth it.

He exists in companionable silence with Virgil. _Gasp,_ you say, _Roman, being quiet?_ Listen, alright, it’s for Virgil. Roman will do a hell of a lot for Virgil. Plus, there are very few things better than being in the same room as someone else, each of you doing your own thing, just reassured by the simple fact that there’s someone else. _And_ there’s the number of inside jokes they have now.

“Wait, look at this post.”

Roman glances up from his notebook, seeing Virgil hold out his phone. He shifts, rolling over onto his other side and bringing his hand up to carefully steady Virgil’s so he can read, valiantly focusing on the writing on the phone screen and not on the feel of Virgil’s hand under his fingertips.

“…oh, for the love of—“ Roman huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was _awful._ ”

“Come on,” Virgil snickers, bringing his phone back and outright _laughing_ at Roman’s exasperation, “that’s a fucking _great_ one.”

“Really? No ’s’ at the end there? You saying I’m not _secure_ enough for you?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” says Virgil, not sounding sorry at all, “I didn’t mean to imply that your website has anything less than the utmost privacy.”

Roman puffs his chest up, hiding a smile when it makes Virgil laugh even harder, “I’ll have you know any connections _I_ make are the safest possible.”

“Okay, VPN, go off.”

“It’s worse. How did you manage to make it _worse?_ ”

“You love it, Princey.”

_I do,_ Roman thinks as Virgil goes back to scrolling, _I really do._

He has to just sit there, for a moment, just one, and watch Virgil. The side’s normally tense shoulders are relaxed under that _marvelous_ hoodie of his, leaning back against the couch with his legs kicked up. Instead of the permanent wrinkles almost ironed into his forehead, he looks…at peace. Or at least calm. His face softens with it, the perpetual frown gone, replaced instead with a soft smile. He’s so… _so_ lovely.

_Aw, you think I’m hot._

_Yes, my darling emo, I do._

“Hey.” Roman blinks, suddenly realizing he'd been staring. “Get up here.”

“What?”

Virgil waggles an earbud at him. “Get up here, you gotta listen to this.”

Closing his notebook and setting it aside, Roman obliges, perching carefully on the armrest behind Virgil’s head. He takes the earbud and puts it in, leaning down until his cheek rests next to Virgil’s to avoid pulling it out. Virgil presses play and… _wow._

“Oh, heavens,” Roman murmurs, his eyes falling closed and his head leaning more heavily against Virgil’s, “what _is_ that?”

“No idea,” Virgil’s voice comes back, equally breathless, “but it’s the fucking _greatest.”_

And this, this is the best part about being like this with Virgil. When they’re both contorted in some terribly awkward position that’s probably ruining both of their spines, holding as still as they can so they don’t miss a moment of the music. When Virgil relaxes enough to let Roman press his cheek to the side of Virgil’s head and he leans back into is, absentmindedly rubbing his face against Roman’s like some large cat.

Virgil works so hard to keep them safe and if Roman can help him relax sometimes, even just the slightest bit, it’s worth it.

He brainstorms with Remus. Come on, they’re Creativity! It’s their job! They whip up twice as many things as they would on their own and it’s so much more _fun_ this way, throwing absolutely everything they have at the wall just to see what sticks. Their rooms end up an absolute mess, but object impermanence makes it very easy to clean up so it’s really not that big of a deal.

“Okay, _go._ ”

Remus cocks his arm back and _hurls_ a handful of something squishy Roman’s way, cackling as Roman swings the bat around and the little bits go _everywhere._ He spreads his arms out and spins like a child in the rain, giddily covering himself in every last bit.

“Again!” He summons another handful and without warning, hucks it at Roman.

“Wait!” Roman only has enough time to raise the bat to block it, closing his eyes and diving out of the way as the blob splatters _gloriously_ onto the wall behind him. Fully intent on yelling at his brother, he straightens up, only to catch sight of the, well, artful way the goo marks the wall.

“Unholy fuck,” Remus squeals, “we gotta do that again! Look at it!”

“Gimme one.”

“Make your own.”

“No! I want one of yours! You do it better!”

“Damn right, I do.” Remus flexes his hands and two more blobs of goo appear. “You want maggots or viscera?”

“Maggots.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Well, I know viscera’s your favorite.”

“Aww,” Remus says, pressing a gross smacking kiss to Roman’s cheek, “thanks, bro. Now _go._ ”

This, Roman thinks, as the blobs splatter effortlessly across the wall that definitely _used_ to be white, is his favorite part of brainstorming with Remus. Literally throwing stuff at a wall to see what sticks. Watching Remus bounce on the balls of his feet with excitement, darting around Roman like a frantic fly buzzing around a piece of shit and yelling what they should try next. Roman follows his brother’s lead, staying in the same place, consistent, just hucking blob after blob at the wall. His arms start to ache after a moment and he wonders how Remus has this much _energy,_ to just keep going and going and going without faltering once.

Well, he’s earned it, hasn’t he?

Roman still aches a little when he thinks about what happened with Remus. Being torn apart from his brother, being forced to never see him again. They were so young when it happened, they lost so much _time…_

“Hey. Ro-bro.”

Roman blinks, the blob in his hand slowly dripping onto the floor. Remus pokes him again.

“You gonna throw that or what?”

Roman looks at the wall. Then he looks at Remus.

“Oh no you—“

_“Catch!”_

_“_ I’m gonna get you for that!”

He goes on long walks with Janus. The Imagination stretches before them, a path through a small town, or a city, or even rolling through a field with nothing but open sky above them. Roman lets his hand drift by his side, keeping them on track, as Janus walks stately beside him. If he lets himself drift, which is an…interesting choice with Janus, he can imagine that he’s still a knight, escorting his charge through the kingdom. And he is, in a way, isn’t he? The Imagination may be open to all of them, but it’s Roman's domain. So he offers his services to those who wish to visit, walking alongside them to guide them through.

It’s the least he can do, after all.

“And I’m sure you know that the chickens are the perfect analogy for the way the trains work.”

Roman blinks. “Excuse me?”

Janus shoots him a wry grin. “You’ve _obviously_ been paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Roman mumbles, ducking his head sheepishly, “didn’t mean to.”

Janus waves him off, looking around. Roman follows his gaze. He _is_ fairly proud of what he’s put together for today. Nothing particularly spectacular, just a field. A field of sunflowers, some stretching up to their waists, a single dirt path leading along the way past the sunset sky. He lets his hand drift idly over a few of them, lips quirking at the way the flowers seem to turn and face Janus’s gloves as he does the same.

“I think they like you,” he says softly. He’s rewarded with a split-second, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it softening of Janus’s expression.

“Based on what you’ve told me,” Janus says, lifting his chin, “everything in here likes me. It’s _definitely_ true.”

As they continue walking, Roman hangs back a little, just to see Janus silhouetted against the pale pink sky. He tilts his head to watch the golden light glimmer off of his scales. Janus, of course, notices that Roman’s not by his side after only a moment, and turns, quirking an eyebrow.

“By all means, _don’t_ keep up.”

“Sorry.” Roman jogs forward until he’s keeping pace again.

“There is a way for this to be easier,” Janus hums.

Roman shakes his head. “Not tonight, Pretty Little Liar.”

  
“That’s what you say every night.” Janus doesn’t quite get close enough to touch him, but Roman can feel the buzzing of his skin where Janus lingers _just_ out of reach. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“I know,” Roman murmurs, mostly to himself.

“Is there a _reason_ you won’t dance with me?”

“I’m afraid I’d only step on your toes.”

“The prince? Who can’t dance?” Janus lifts a gloved hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “The _shame._ ”

Roman chuckles. “Haven’t had a great deal of practice recently,” he defends, “and I wouldn’t dare try and be a less than stellar partner for you.”

It pacifies Janus for now. Roman sighs. Ever since they started…this little arrangement they have, Janus has proposed they dance instead of walk, claiming it would be easier to sustain a conversation if they weren’t to part for more than an instant. And it makes sense, it does, but dancing involves physical contact. Janus doesn’t like to be touched. Roman doesn’t know where the line is and messing things up anymore is just…no. Better to err on the side of caution, hold himself at arms’ length, until he understands things a little better. Plus, he isn’t lying about being out of practice. Virgil and he agree that Thomas’s dance skills are…less than ideal, let’s say.

There’s another reason, one that he won’t admit, and the one that makes him keep his head down on the walks.

Roman doesn’t like eye contact.

Sure, he’ll put up with it when he’s working, or when they’re filming, but otherwise? When they’re dancing? When he’s dancing with _Janus?_

Janus sees a _lot._ There are certain things he would rather Janus not see.

And if he has Janus in his arms, even for an instant, he’s not sure he’d let go.

So this is his favorite part, as they walk through the flowers into the sunset, his favorite part is the buzz he gets from having Janus here, just here, right on the edge of him, fire in his chest warm and getting warmer as he gets lightheaded off of his voice. And if that’s all he gets, just giving Janus somewhere to breathe, it’s worth it.

He talks with Logan. Logan, who is so clever it makes Roman’s head spin, trying to keep up with a pace that blows his mind on a daily basis. There’s a special little library tucked into the corner of the Mindscape, just for Logan, that Roman will walk up to and knock carefully, seeing if Logan’s already inside.

“Come in?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Roman says, his binder and notebook tucked under his arm as he shuts the door carefully behind him, “didn’t realize the time.”

“You’re only one minute late,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses from the chair, “no harm done.”

“So,” Roman announces cheerfully, opening his binder and fetching the pen tucked behind his ear, “what’re we talking about today?”

“I found a book that I think you’ll appreciate.” Logan pushes a book across the table to Roman, who flips it open. “Do you remember our conversations about fairy rings?”

“Hang on.” Roman sorts through his binder, finding the right page of notes. “Here we go.”

“You—“

He looks up, brows drawn at the note of confusion in Logan’s voice. “Something wrong, Specs?”

“You…take notes on our conversations?” He truly does look baffled.

“Of course I do,” Roman laughs, “what, you can’t expect me to remember _everything_ we talk about.”

“…I can.”

“I know, Logan,” Roman says, leaning over to lightly tap Logan’s hand, “but you’re much better at remembering that kind of stuff. I’ve got so much going on up here—“ he taps his temple— “that if I don’t write _some_ of it down, it’ll get lost.”

“I see.”

“Don’t worry, I got it now.” Roman squints at the page, then at the book. His eyes widen. “You found it?”

Logan holds out his hand. Roman passes it back eagerly, flipping to a new page and getting ready to scribble down whatever they talk about first. Logan’s eyes start to light up as he talks, his words growing more and more fluid as he dives headfirst into the book, tugging Roman along with him. Roman keeps up as best he can, pen flying, tearing his gaze away every few seconds to just _look_ at Logan.

He glows in his element, here in the library, eyes bright and shining. He even sits up a little straighter. At some point, when Roman’s not sure he knows quite _what_ they’re talking about anymore, he puts the pen down altogether, leaning his chin on his hands and just _watching._

“…my apologies,” Logan says after a while, “I…did not mean to do that.”

“Please,” Roman murmurs, “don’t _ever apologize_ for getting excited.”

“But if—“ Logan furrows his brows— “if I am not—if you can’t understand me, then—“

“Logan,” Roman breaks in softly, “Logan, do you have any idea how _wonderful_ it is to listen to you?”

He smiles when Logan’s eyes go wide, shifting in his seat.

“You light up, my dear nerd,” Roman continues, “and you look _radiant._ You glow, Logan. And I don’t even _need_ to understand you to appreciate that. And you’re so good at making me understand that I can do both.”

“W-well, I, um…”

Roman taps the table gently. “Come on, Specs. Bring back the TED Talk. Let me stay in this moment with you. Keep glowing.”

And Logan does.

Roman loves his family. He loves them _so_ much he thinks he’ll burst sometimes. And he’s never happier than when they’re all together, around the table, on the couch, even just in the same _room,_ where he can look up and see all of them, _all_ of them, and he can go back to his work with the fire burning happily in his chest about how grateful he is to be a part of this family.

He’d do anything for them.

So when Patton comes down in the morning, looking a little cloudy and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, Roman promptly wraps him up in a hug and presses a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream into his hands, sitting him down and asking him what’s the matter. When Patton says he’s been feeling a little dim and alone, he presses a kiss to his knuckles and whips up the best batch of chocolate cookies he can make, answering Patton’s questions about the recipe with a wink. “It’s a secret, Padre, isn’t that more fun?”

When Virgil curls up on the chair, all bunched up around a thoroughly throttled pillow, Roman perches on the edge and softly asks what he can do, does he need to get Logan, can Virgil breathe alright? When Virgil whispers that he’s still afraid sometimes that they’ll send him away, that they don’t love him, he gently asks is he can give Virgil a hug, taking his own earbuds from his pocket and putting on the most reassuring music he can, humming along and waiting until Virgil turns shyly into his hold.

When Remus looks upset, at _all,_ Roman tackles him onto the nearest soft surface and buries his face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him as tightly as possible, no, tighter than that, just to reassure his brother that he’s _here,_ he’s not going anywhere, what nasty little beastly thoughts does he need to kick the ass of now? When Remus mumbles that he still feels like the unloved brother, that he’s still not sure he’s invented Roman, _this_ Roman, Roman sinks them straight into his room and baps Remus gently with a pillow, saying _I’m real, I’m here, I love you, come on, fight back!_

When Janus twists his hands together, gloves rustling along with their footsteps, Roman stops and gets as close as he dares, staring at the scales on the side of Janus’s face until he looks up, almost looking Janus in the eyes but not quite, wordlessly asking what he can do. When Janus grits out something about _definitely_ feeling secure about his place with the others, Roman snaps his fingers and summons the biggest, warmest, flattest cliff he can, bared to the open sky, and lays down on the warm rock, closing his eyes and waiting for another body to curl up next to his, shyly resting just against him for warmth.

When Logan knocks on his door one day, his mouth drawn into a hardline, Roman doesn’t hesitate to sweep him inside and ask what’s wrong.

“I require your assistance,” Logan says, adjusting his tie, “with an experiment.”

“Of course, Specs, how can I help?”

“I am conducting a study of the development of personal attachment,” Logan says, “and I need someone who is more experienced in this matter to talk about it.”

Roman tilts his head. “Maybe…maybe Patton’s the right person to ask, I’m not—emotions aren’t my job.”

“No, but _romance_ is,” Logan points out, “as well as passion and desire. According to my preliminary tests, those are key components of forming personal attachments.”

_Oh, Logan, you have no idea._

“Though if you do not wish to participate—“

“No!” Logan blinks, taken aback by Roman’s shout. “No, Specs, I’m more than happy to help. Just as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Logan says, nodding, “thank you, Roman.”

Roman flashes a bright smile. “So, how will this experiment work?”

“I will need you to record videos for me,” Logan says, “twice weekly, at the minimum, every day if you can. I will need you to discuss your feelings on interactions you have had with people you deem close to you and how you think they have developed.”

Roman nods slowly, looking around for his notebook. He spots it and quickly scribbles something down. “Do you want me to send these to you as I do them?”

“No, at the end of the experiment period will be sufficient.”

“And how long is that?”

Logan hesitates, adjusting his glasses and looking around. Roman frowns, noticing Logan’s hands start to tremble.

“Well,” he says quickly, “you just tell me when you’re ready.”

Logan nods gratefully. “I appreciate your willingness to help, Roman.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.”

“Well considering your workload already, I simply—“

“You’re asking me to record something I do already, Specs,” Roman laughs, “really, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.”

“You always are,” Logan says like it doesn’t send sparks through Roman’s chest. “Shall I see you for dinner?”

“Of course!”

Logan leaves and Roman claps happily. He gets to help Logan with an experiment? Logan _never_ lets any of them help with experiments, not like this. Well, he’s going to do it _right._ Especially since he knows what this is _actually_ about.

Roman chews his lip as he sets up his own tripod, placing his phone in the stand and sitting down at his desk. He switches on the ring light and tucks his hair into place. He clicks the record button and goes to work. As he told Logan, this isn’t hard. It’s just…explaining what he’s thinking about. How much he cares about them. And how much it’s _okay_ if Logan doesn’t understand this fully yet.

“Here’s the secret, Specs,” Roman says, leaning a little closer to the camera, “ _no one_ really knows how this works, least of all me. It just…happens, yeah? I know, I know, I can hear you now, saying there is a reason, and there probably is! But that doesn’t mean I’m doing it consciously.”

He sits back, ruffling his hair. “You’re Logic, I know, but you’re not _just_ Logic. You’re Logan. And Logan’s gotta figure out how to walk the line between Logic and emotion, right? It’s hard, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’s not, but it’s _doable._ I promise.”

Roman smiles at the camera, pictures Logan’s bright smile when he glows, and tilts his head.

“If anyone can do it, Specs, it’s you. And you’ll have all of us to help you along the way, I swear. You all will. You’ve got a family, Logan, one that loves you.”

He raises a hand to his chest like he’s making a vow. “ _I_ will be there to love and support you while you figure this out. All of you. I promise.”

And he’ll keep that promise, whatever happens. They’re his family, after all. He’d do anything for them.

* * *

Roman notices it when he comes downstairs and it takes Patton a moment to realize that he’s asking him a question. He brushes it off, saying it’s alright, it takes him some time to wake up in the mornings too, does Patton want coffee?

“No thanks, kiddo,” Patton says, sipping determinedly at his cup of tea, “I’m good with this. Coffee’s too bitter for me.”

“We’ve got cream and sugar if you ever change your mind,” Roman sings, bumping his hip lightly against Patton’s, “though I’m sure we’d never get anything quite as sweet as _you._ ”

It makes Patton giggle which is the _best_ part, even if his little flushed face is the most adorable thing Roman’s seen all day. “Roman!”

“I’m just saying we’d have to give you a whole thing of milk and honey if you wanted it to be that sweet,” he teases, wrapping an arm around Patton’s waist, “and even _then_ I’m not sure it’d be sweet enough.”

Patton’s giggling too hard to answer, weakly swatting Roman away. He relents, pulling back and making sure the biscuits aren’t burning. When he glances over to see Patton draining the last dregs of his tea, pouting that there’s no more, he quickly holds out his hand.

“Trust me?”

Patton nods.

“I’ve got an idea for something I think you’ll like.” Without waiting for a response, Roman takes a little bit of the warm milk they’d put on the stove and pours it carefully into the mug, swirling it around and letting it pick up just a little bit of the tea flavor left over. Then he reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a small bottle of vanilla syrup, adding just a dash.

“Here,” he announces, giving the mug back, “try!”

Patton eyes it warily, glancing up one last time to see Roman nodding reassuringly. He takes a tiny sip.

“Oh my goodness, Roman!” Patton has to put down the mug and flap his hands excitedly. “That’s so good! It’s—it’s—mm!”

Roman chuckles as Patton greedily takes another sip, smiling so wide it makes _Roman’s_ cheeks hurt by proxy. He nudges Patton to sit down before he topples over, leaning on the counter next to him and waiting until he’s had his fill for now.

“Sunshine,” he calls softly, waiting for Patton to look up, “you’ve got a few clouds today, what’s up?”

Patton’s smile dims and for a moment, he looks…older. “…sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Roman says quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “you’re having feelings, that’s alright. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

He leans into the touch, sighing, his hands still wrapped around the warm mug. “I’m a little tired today, kiddo, that’s all.”

“That’s alright, most of the work is done, and you can absolutely have a lazy day, Thomas doesn’t have anything scheduled.” Roman tilts his head when Patton still looks upset. “That’s not all, though, is it?”

Patton shakes his head, chewing on his lip, peering up at Roman. Slowly, almost as if it’s happening without his awareness, one of his hands comes up to rub slowly at his chest, right over his heart. Roman follows the movement, watching the fabric of Patton’s shirt bunch up under his hand.

“Can you—“ Roman’s gaze flicks back to see Patton already looking away, shaking his head.

“You’re allowed to ask for help, sunshine, remember,” he prompts gently, “you can ask, it’s okay.”

“…can you feel if there’s something wrong with me?”

Roman’s eyes widen. “Patton, are you in pain?”

Patton just looks up at him. “Can you?”

“I, um, I can…I can try,” Roman stammers, “but Logan’s the one who knows first-aid, I can get him if you like, we can—“

“No,” Patton says softly, “can…can _you_ feel what’s wrong with me?”

Oh.

Can _Roman_ feel what’s wrong?

Slowly, slow enough that Patton can pull away if he needs to, Roman lifts his hand and lays it gently on top of Patton’s, stilling it and lightly tapping his wrist to get his to move out of the way. Patton does, closing his eyes and screwing them shut. Roman winces in sympathy, before centering his hand on Patton’s chest and closing his eyes.

He can smell the warm, sweet milk, the biscuits. He can feel Patton’s heart under his hand, beating steadily, surely, right _there._ He can feel his other hand reach out to steady himself around Patton’s shoulders, feel Patton sag into him a little bit. The warm weight of Patton on his own chest makes his hand twitch.

_Focus, Roman._

He looks.

Patton’s heart, to no one’s surprise, is terribly strong. It sends tingles up through Roman’s fingertips as he gently explores, looking through the little threads of soft, squishiness to try and figure out which part hurts, which part is hurting his Patton.

There.

One thread _aches_ as he touches it, burning with a need that makes him gasp, his own chest aching in response. He opens his eyes to blink down at Patton, whose own face is now slightly damp.

He removes his hand, reaches up to gently start wiping away Patton’s tears. Patton blinks his eyes open, startled by the sudden contact, only to gasp in dismay.

“I’m…I’m crying?”

“You’re crying,” Roman says softly, “and that’s okay. You’ve just had a lot of emotion go through you, shh…”

Patton lets him wipe his cheeks clean. “So…did you figure out what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Roman soothes, “not a thing. You’re in love, my darling.”

“I…am?” Patton’s brows furrow in confusion. “But…but Thomas hasn’t met anyone new recently, not even in passing, how can he—“

“Not Thomas,” Roman corrects, lifting Patton’s chin, _“you._ ”

Patton’s eyes go wide. “B-but…but I can’t…I can’t be in love, what would—who would I—“

“Shh,” Roman says softly, “you’re allowed to be in love, Padre, that’s okay.”

“But I don’t even know who it _is!”_

“Are you sure?”

Patton falls silent. Roman’s fingers trace idle patterns over the counter, watching his eyes blink furiously. He thinks of the feelings he had when he tugged on that thread.

Soft chuckles. The warmth of someone else pressed into your lap. Hair swept down over tired eyes. A smirk curved up just…there. The cool glow of a phone in the darkness. Purple. So much purple.

Patton’s eyes widen again.

“…Virgil?”

“You tell me, sunshine,” Roman encourages, “and it’s okay if you don’t know for sure yet.”

“I…” Patton glances toward the stairs as if worried Virgil’s going to pop up any minute. “But he—I—“

“Don’t try and justify it.” He tucks his hand around Patton’s cheek and brings their gazes back. “Just talk to me.”

“…he’s really good at protecting us,” Patton mumbles, “and he—he’s always trying to take care of us in his own way.”

“Yes, he does.”

“I, um…he points out things that we don’t think about and we can talk about them together.”

“He is very good at that.”

“He’s _really_ good at hide-and-seek.”

“Do you remember when he managed to fit himself _inside_ the cupboards?”

Patton giggles, that flush coming back to his cheeks but…deeper somehow. Stronger. Roman watches it and feels a slight ache in his chest. He must still be getting residual from Patton.

“…he’s kind,” Patton mumbles eventually, “and he…he doesn’t think he is.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Roman nudges him lightly. “Are you going to tell him that?”

He’s not just talking about Virgil being kind and they both know it.

Patton looks up at him. “Should I?”

“For what it’s worth?” Roman leans down and bumps their foreheads together. “I think he’d be absolutely over the moon.”

The next second, he has to let out a soft _oof_ as Patton throws himself into Roman’s arms. Roman chuckles, using the momentum to lift him up and spin them around, holding Patton tight. He sets him down carefully, right next to him, still hugging him just in case Patton doesn’t want to let go yet. But he does, so Roman steps back.

“Oh, Roman, _thank you,_ ” Patton beams, “I—I feel so much better!”

“I’m glad, sunshine,” Roman says, reaching out to stroke Patton’s cheek, only to miss as Patton turns away.

“Should…should I talk to him now?”

Roman shakes his head. “Do you think surprising Virgil awake would be a good idea?”

“…no.”

“You’ve only just figured this out yourself,” Roman reminds, “maybe let it sit for a few days? Figure out what you want to say?”

“Okay!” And with that, Patton bounds up the stairs, biscuits, warm milk, and Roman abandoned in the kitchen.

Roman shrugs, still riding the high of seeing Patton so happy, and goes to clean up. He can’t resist taking just the smallest sip of the warm milk, letting it wash through him. He pulls the biscuits out of the oven, setting them out of the cooling rack, and beginning to rinse off the dishes. The others may not be down for breakfast, after all, then, if they haven’t come down by now. Or, they’re taking his advice and having a bit of a lie-in. That’s okay.

He selects the lumpiest biscuit—always his favorite—and slathers a generous amount of butter onto it, picking up his own mug and going to have a seat on the couch. He bites into it and smiles. Warm, buttery, and just the right amount of fluff. They did a good job if he does say so himself.

Although…as he looks around the room, still waking up, it doesn’t quite feel as it always does in the morning without everyone else up. Somewhere he knows it’s just the same, but somehow, seeing Patton and then having him leave makes it…different. Now he’s no longer the guardian of the house, but just…someone hanging around it, waiting to see if anyone will walk by.

He polishes off the biscuit and heads back upstairs, washing off the mug before he does. Oh, he should record this for Logan!

He makes sure not to spill any of Patton’s secrets, that’s a line he won’t cross, but he does mention how it made him feel; all warm and safe inside, seeing Patton all happy and realizing what had to happen. As he tucks away the camera and files the video, he thinks.

Patton makes him happy, yes, and making Patton happy _also_ makes him happy. Patton enjoys baking with Roman.

He looks around for a spare sheet of paper and picks it up, turning it this way and that in his hands. No, not quite right.

He finds an empty journal and considers its weight, its page count. Also not quite what he’s looking for.

He digs through his desk drawer and finds an old stash of unused pens, trying them out on a scrap piece of paper. No, no, no, not right.

Hmm.

He keeps the project idea tucked away in the back of his mind until he comes downstairs again a few days later to a smashed mug and shaking hands.

Roman hustles around the end of the counter and crouches next to Patton, calling softly until he moves his hands away from his face enough for Roman to see the red-rimmed eyes and trembling mouth.

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmurs, “you come here, come here…”

Ignoring the mess on the ground, Roman tucks Patton into his lap and rocks him carefully back and forth, saying soft reassurances and checking him for injuries. When he turns up none, he gently takes Patton’s face in his hand and asks him what’s wrong.

“What if he doesn’t love me back?” Patton blurts, eyes staring at Roman.

“Is that what’s bothering you, little puffball? Oh, Patton…” Roman pulls him back in close. “He cares so much for you, I promise.”

“But what if he doesn’t _love_ me?”

“There are different kinds of love, Patton, you know that, are you afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t love you in the same way?” Patton nods furiously against his shoulder. “Is Virgil the type of person to _try_ and hurt you like that?”

“No.”

“Will Virgil still care about you if he doesn’t love you the same way?”

“…will he?”

“Oh, sunshine, of course, he will,” Roman promises, “he cares so much about you, Patton, we all do.”

He takes Patton’s face in his hands again, wiping away a few tears. “ _I_ love you, Patton, so much, and I _promise_ you Virgil does too.”

Patton sniffles. “But not like _that._ ”

Something twists in Roman’s chest. He ignores it.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “let’s get you sitting somewhere more comfortable and I’ll get you something warm to drink, hmm?”

Patton lets him carry him to the couch, squeezing his hand gently and hurrying back to the kitchen. He whips up another drink and passes it off, cleaning up the floor and coming back to kneel in front of the couch, only for Patton to make grabby-hands at him. He chuckles, obediently getting up and letting Patton wrap his arms around Roman’s waist.

“Have you eaten yet today, sunshine?” Patton shakes his head. “Let me get you something, then.”

Patton whines but lets go, cupping his hands around his mug again. When Roman reappears with a plate of cookies, his eyes go wide.

“Don’t tell Logan,” Roman stage-whispers, knowing full well Logan wouldn’t give a damn how unhealthy it is if it’s helping Patton feel better.

“Are these the secret recipe that you won’t tell me?”

“They sure are.”

Patton stuffs one into his mouth, smearing chocolate over his face. Roman reaches up to wipe it off but stops, instead offering a tissue. Patton doesn’t even notice the switch.

“Will you ever tell me?”

Roman hesitates, wanting to hold onto this one thing, before realizing that it’s probably more rude than interesting at this point. “One day, sunshine.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Patton worries the tissue between his fingers, chewing on his lip again. “…are you sure he won’t hate me?”

“I don’t think Virgil’s capable of hating you,” Roman says, “I don’t think any of us are.”

“Were you telling the truth,” Patton says suddenly, looking at Roman with a ferocity that takes him aback, “about…how _you_ feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Do you love me?”

Roman blinks. “Of—of course I love you, Patton.”

Patton stares at him, eyes scanning his face until Roman’s own eyes threaten to water from the intensity of it. Then he looks away and the difference makes Roman want to plead for it back.

“…I wish that were enough,” Patton mumbles, mostly to himself, but Roman hears. Something twists again.

“I’m being silly,” Patton says louder, wiping his eyes, “and freaking out for no reason.”

Roman hums. “You know who’s good at helping with that?”

“…Virgil.”

“Bingo!”

“Should I talk to him today?”

“Do you think you can?”

Patton is silent for a moment. “…no.”

“Then you don’t have to.”

“But I should do it soon.”

“Then you will.”

“Thank you, Roman,” Patton mumbles, turning and tucking his face into Roman’s shoulder, “you’ve been really nice to me.”

“I’m here for you,” Roman replies instantly, “and I always will be.”

“Even if I crash and burn?”

“ _Especially_ if you crash and burn.”

They sit there on the couch for a little longer until Roman’s legs fall asleep. Then Patton quietly gets up and sinks out, taking his mug with him. Roman watches him go without a word until he sinks out himself, his mind made up.

He heads straight for the Imagination and whisks up a bookstore. Pushing the door open with a jangle, he waves at the shelves to fill with blank journals.

“Now,” he muses as he starts wandering through them, “what would my little ball of sunshine like?”

Roman won’t always be there to make cookies for Patton, as much as he’d like to be, so the very least he can do is give Patton the recipe.

And if he gives Patton a whole book, where he can write down all the ones that make him happy, then it’ll be worth it.

Maybe that’ll be enough.

To remind him he’s loved.

Virgil ends up curled into about a _quarter_ of the couch one afternoon and won’t let Roman touch him. Roman gives him space, doesn’t push, always asks before initiating one of their ‘exist in companionable silence’ times, and makes sure he always has an extra pair of earbuds on hand in case Virgil doesn’t have his. Sometimes he’ll get a ‘no,’ and Virgil will vanish back into his room until it’s time to eat. Sometime’s he’ll get a ‘yes’ and Virgil spends the whole time glued to his phone, his hands firmly in his pockets, not acknowledging Roman’s existence except for a few grunts. Sometimes he doesn’t get an answer.

Those are the worst ones.

Roman taps his fingers as quietly as he can against his leg as he tries to put together this new idea for Thomas, but he can’t help sneaking glances at Virgil every now and then. He shouldn’t, he knows, he should be _working,_ but he’s worried.

“ _What,_ ” Virgil finally snaps when Roman glances up at him for the third time in as many minutes, “why do you keep _staring_ at me?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman says immediately, “I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be,” Virgil says, drawing his hood up, “I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say anything was.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do.”

Roman smiles slightly when Virgil looks at his incredulously, one eye peeking out from under his fringe. He sets aside his book—he wasn’t getting anything good done anyways—and lays his hands in his lap.

“Of course I have to worry about you, Virgil,” he says quietly, “I care about you.”

“ _God,_ Princey,” Virgil mutters, jerking his head away, “don’t _do_ that.”

“Do what, Dark and Stormy?”

_“Say_ stuff like that.”

Roman tilts his head, frowning in confusion as Virgil starts to worry the ends of the hoodie strings. “Stuff like what?”

“You know, like—like—“ Virgil flounders, looking for his words— “like _that._ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Virgil,” Roman says helplessly, “no, wait, hang on—really. I’m not—I’m not trying to be mean to you, I just—if you don’t _tell_ me, I can’t fix what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing something _wrong,_ Princey, it’s just—you—I—“

Virgil lets out a frustrated scream, burying his face in his hands.

“…Virgil, can I come over to you?”

“…sure.”

Roman sits patiently by the end of the couch, whispering soft reassurances and letting Virgil stim with the golden cord on the shoulders of his prince costume. Virgil’s mouth is drawn tight, his shoulders drawn tighter, but Roman coaxes him to relax, even just a little, and it comes tumbling out.

“…did you mean it?”

Roman looks up. “Mean what?”

“That you…had to worry about me because you…care about me?”

“Yeah, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, leaning his head back again, “of course I meant it.”

“Is that what caring about people means? That you…worry about them?”

“Virgil, what—“

“Please,” Virgil interrupts, “just…just answer me?”

Roman sighs, raking his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to answer that question.

“…caring about someone means that you’re _aware_ of them,” he says finally, “that you…you want to make sure they’re as content as they can be.”

He leans his head back, resting against the lip of the couch.

“It means wanting to see them often, or as often as you can, just to catch up, to say hi, to let them know you’ve been missing them, or that you thought of something they might like. It means remembering the things they like and the things they don’t, the things that are okay for them, and the things that aren’t.”

Roman turns his head, looking at Virgil, still holding tight to the shoulder of Roman’s costume.

“It means trusting them with that part of you that cares,” he says softly, “and hoping they trust you enough to do the same. And yes, it’s being a little worried when they don’t seem to be as content as they normally are.”

Virgil just stares at him and sniffs. Then he looks away. Roman itches to reach up and cover his hand but he forces himself to wait. _Wait._

“…I’m worried about Patton.”

Warm giggles. The faintest smell of cinnamon. The soft hoodie tied around broad shoulders. The most comforting hug you can imagine. The light shade of blue.

“Virgil,” he calls softly, “it’s okay. It is, I promise. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know that,” comes the strangled whisper, “ _how?_ ”

“Because it has to be,” Roman murmurs back, “it’s not the ending if it’s not okay, remember?”

“…right.”

Roman smiles, tries to hide the buzzing feeling in his chest, and says _it’s okay, you’re allowed to feel this way, he won’t be mad at you, I’ll help if you like, it’s okay._ Virgil hauls him up to sit next to him, letting him drive the anxious thoughts from his mind by humming along to the playlist he selects.

Absentmindedly, he starts humming a different song with the same beat as they listen.

“Is that…you?”

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“No,” Virgil says quickly, “don’t. It, um…it’s cool. You can just…do that?”

“Kind of. I mean, this song’s been sampled into so many others, so…”

“That’s really fucking cool, Princey.” Virgil turns the music down a little. “Do it louder.”

And maybe…maybe Roman can do this for Virgil. He can sit here and sing along with the playlist, and he can take Virgil’s suggestions for what can go together, even if the result makes them both cringe so hard their necks ache. It doesn’t matter if the lyrics to ‘Back in Black’ can technically fit over ‘A Thousand Miles,’ _don’t do it._

And maybe Roman can put together a playlist of their own, with those remixes for Virgil. Maybe that’ll help him calm down sometimes when Roman knows he can’t always be there, no matter how much he longs to. Maybe it’ll be a nice reminder of these moments they steal on the couch.

Maybe it’ll be enough, to remind him he’s loved.

He gently pushes them together, writing off the ache in his chest as the two of them, swirling cautiously around each other like two stars, wary of getting too close lest they burn up. But they don’t. In fact, they shine brighter than anyone else could stand.

Roman offers the most boisterous, obnoxious congratulations he can, grinning until his cheeks ache, watching them. Watching Virgil start coming down earlier in the morning, baking side by side with Patton, ducking under his arms for a quick hug before getting back to work. Watches Patton curl up on the couch next to Virgil, the other side in his lap, idly toying with his hair as earbuds dangle between them. Watches them start to sit together more often, closer, sometimes barely leaving room for anyone else.

Feels the ache in his chest worsen, just a little bit.

But that’s okay. They both know how much they’re loved now, _for real._

They don’t need anything else to remind them of it.

Logan comes to him one night in tears.

In an instant, Roman is on his feet, arms out, calling _what’s wrong, let me help, come here, sit down, shh, here, drink this, what happened?_ Logan does, dutifully drinking until the glass is empty, trying so, _so_ hard to hide behind his tie, his glasses, his mask of professionalism until Roman tenderly removes his glasses to clean them and Logan latches onto his wrist so tightly that for a moment—just a moment—Roman wonders if he’ll ever let go.

He doesn’t realize until later the fire in his chest burned just a _little_ hotter when he thought of that.

Poor Logan is distraught, except he isn’t. He’s Logic, after all, Logic doesn’t do this. He’s having _emotions_ because he’s not having the _right_ emotions and maybe he _doesn’t_ have emotions and—

“Breathe, Logan,” Roman says softly, resting his hand very lightly on Logan’s tummy, “come on, you can do it.”

Logan draws a shuddering breath, leans against Roman’s shoulder. “M-my apologies.”

“Don’t you apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong, my darling nerd.” Roman runs a hand gently through his hair. “You’re having emotions. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I’m _Logic,”_ Logan insists stubbornly, “I shouldn’t be—“

“Logan,” Roman interrupts, “ _Logan._ ”

“W-what?”

“You’re Logan, sweetheart, and _Logan_ is allowed to have emotions. Plus,” he says softly, lightly prodding Logan’s chest, “I think at this point it’s pretty clear that you do.”

Logan slumps, all defiance going out of him in an instant. Roman catches him, he always catches him, and lays him down carefully, tucking a pillow behind his head.

“You’re alright,” he soothes, still running his hand through Logan’s hair, “get it out, it’ll hurt more if you keep it in.”

Logan stares up at him, his eyes so wide without his glasses, so _scared._ Roman looks back, fighting the tears pricking at his own eyes, and softly repeats _it’s okay, I’m right here, I care about you._

He spends the next god-knows-how-long with a pile of sobbing Logan in his lap, tucked up against him.

He runs his hand up and down Logan’s back, tells him _everything’s going to be okay, I know it’s scary, you’re doing very well._ Emotions can be scary, he knows. Love can be scarier.

The fire in his chest rumbles when Logan pushes himself away from Roman and buries his face in his hands, muttering that _it’s not enough, it’s not enough, it’s not enough._

“What’s not enough, Logan?”

“ _This,_ ” Logan cries, “whatever _this_ is, it’s not enough.”

Roman would love to say he doesn’t know what Logan’s talking about.

Instead, he wipes Logan’s tears away from his eyes and says _no, you’re not broken, my darling, you’re just scared. That’s okay, you’re allowed to be scared._

“Talk to someone,” he pleads, “even if it’s me, if it’s not me, just…talk to someone, alright?”

Logan nods, his eyes still rimmed red, as he starts to list from side to side. Roman coaxes him back to his own room, tucks him up, lays his glasses gently on the side table, and bids him good night.

Logan doesn’t think he can be both Logic _and_ have emotions, hmm? Logan thinks he’s incapable of forming personal attachments in a meaningful way?

Logan thinks he’s broken?

Roman knows better.

His fingers, for the first time in a while, feel a little clumsy as he starts typing up something new. His specialty is fiction, imaginary constructions flitting about on a page, but this…this he can do.

You’d be surprised how much creativity goes into writing a research paper.

He’s out of practice, sure, and he’s nowhere as quick as Logan might be, but he’s going to do this. He’s going to write this research paper for Logan to _prove_ not only that it’s okay for Logan to be feeling like this, but that he has a family that will love and support him through it. There will always be someone for him to talk to.

As it turns out, Logan talks to _two_ someones. The move from a couple to a triad is slower, gentler, but he’ll never forget the day Logan smiled— _smiled—_ and said with confidence that he wasn’t broken after all, that logic and emotion could co-exist within him.

And that’s great, because now Virgil has two partners to companionable-silence with, with their own background noise, he doesn’t need a new playlist. Logan has two people to talk to and reassure that emotions and feelings are okay and that we can be rational about things _while_ having emotions. Patton has a full kitchen, there’s hardly any room for _anyone_ anymore.

And that’s okay.

Then he starts seeing a little less yellow around the Mindscape and he just _knows._

Out of all of the things he’s created for the Mindscape, the one he’s the proudest of is the large set of windows in the hallway between the Light Side and the Dark Side—not that it’s much use anymore, they’re all spending time in one side anyway—that opens onto the Imagination’s sky. For the most part, it’s always bright and sunny, nary a cloud in the sky, so Roman created a truly impressive set of thick curtains to draw over the glass, just to make sure it didn’t get quite so warm.

Today, he reels the curtains back as far as they’ll go and plonks himself down right in the middle of the sunny patch and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Something cool nudges at his hand and he turns it over without thinking, letting the cool mass move slowly up his arm, lying on his lap, and curling up. He looks down at the yellow snake with its little hat perched on top of its head and smiles.

“Hello, Bananaconda.”

The snake’s tongue flicks out for an instant.

“No,” Roman muses, “you’re not really large enough to be a bananaconda, are you? You’re more of a danger noodle.”

The snake hisses indignantly at him but curls up, preening in the warmth from the sunlight behind them as he chuckles, tapping its snoot gently.

“Boop the danger noodle.”

Another hiss and Roman outright laughs.

“No,” he says, still chuckling, “I think you’re too small to be a danger noodle too. You’re more of a hazard macaroni.”

_There we go._

“Fancy seeing you here, Pretty Little Liar,” Roman grins, sitting on his hands as Janus appears in his lap, trying very hard to glare at him, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Janus just hisses at him again and oh, well, it looks like Roman’s not going anywhere for a while. He’s got about…oh, yep, there’s the last one—he’s got six arms wrapped around him as tight as can go, a head buried in his shoulder and scales pressed lightly against the side of his neck.

“Cold?”

“Be quiet,” comes the annoyed mumble, “you signed up to be my personal heater today now shh.”

Roman shushes, if only to carefully place Janus’s hat back on his head properly. He waits until Janus’s death grip loosens slightly to gently broach the question of what’s troubling him.

He listens to the lies, to the dismissals, to the attempts to get Roman to _stop, back off, everything’s fine, you don’t have to worry about me._ Janus has always been good at knowing where Roman is weak, and he’s never strayed away from aiming for those soft spots when he needs to.

Too bad for him that Roman’s very used to operating with that sort of ache and he’s not about to be dissuaded when Janus is so obviously _not_ fine.

“You’re lonely,” he murmurs softly, cutting through Janus’s tirade, “you’re lonely, aren’t you?”

“ _…no._ ”

Roman hums sympathetically, squeezing the side in his arms. “It’s…different, right? Because they’re just…just a little _more_ than before. It’s not like it’s suddenly all hugs and kisses and big declarations of affection—“

“That’s _your_ job.”

“…perhaps,” Roman says, ignoring the ache in his chest, “but that…that kind of makes it worse, doesn’t it? Because it’s just _there_ and you…have to deal with it.”

“… _no._ ”

“You know it doesn’t mean they care about you any less, right?” Janus scoffs and Roman pulls him back. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Janus mutters, not meeting Roman’s eyes, “you believe you’re telling the truth.”

“I am, Janus.” Roman tilts Janus’s head back to his. “ _I_ don’t care about you any less, I promise.”

“That’s not quite the same thing, though, is it?” Janus smiles bitterly. “Not really.”

Roman sighs. “You really think they get flustered just because it’s flirting, and not _your_ flirting?”

He has the pleasure of seeing Janus caught off-guard for perhaps the first time in his life.

“They care about you,” he murmurs softly, seeing a spark of hope in Janus’s eyes, “and for what it’s worth…Remus and I do too.”

For a second, he thinks something’s about to happen. Then Janus shakes himself and the walls slide back down. Roman mourns the loss of the weight in his lap as Janus gets smoothly to his feet.

“Well,” he says, his voice back to the dark self-assuredness, “I’d better be off.”

“Of course,” Roman mumbles. Janus turns to leave, back to the Dark Sides’ hallway, when he stops and turns.

“…thank you,” he says quietly, “…for the warmth. It can get awfully cold in the dark.”

That gives Roman an idea.

Janus doesn’t like to be touched. But he needs warmth. What if…what if Janus had something warm to cuddle that didn’t involve being touched by someone else?

He’ll have to make sure the fabric is just right, can’t do with it getting singed or steamy. And there’ll have to be an easy way to wash it…maybe the heating element will be removable? Oh, he’s going to have to _build_ that too…well, that shouldn’t be too hard, he’s gotten other things like that working before. He is going to have to hand-stitch part of it…cuddle plushes should be tailored to their owners, don’t you think?

As he works, he always checks in with the state of the fabric, the height of the plush, the stuffing he’s using, to make it perfect.

Maybe it’ll be enough.

Well, the next time he walks by the big window, he stops dead.

He can’t go this way.

Not with _four people_ lying in the patch of sunlight.

And there, in the middle, Patton’s arms around his waist from behind, Virgil lying protectively across his legs, Logan’s hand intertwined with his, is Janus.

Roman smiles. His chest aches. He turns around and heads back to his room.

What use is a plush when you’ve got three people to cuddle?

Remus is different. Remus has _always_ been different, but for…just for _this…_ it’s Roman that makes this different.

He sees how his brother looks at the others. He knows that expression, the way Remus flashes a too-bright grin and sinks out before every movie night. Lately, Roman’s been sinking out with him, catching his brother slumped and exhausted before realizing Roman’s there and plastering on that manic grin again. He’s tried everything to get Roman to voluntarily leave, from splattering him with guts to imagining some _truly_ impressively foul things to summoning his morning star and swinging at him.

Roman never leaves.

How can he? He understands perfectly.

One time Remus doesn’t try after they sink out. He collapses onto his bed and looks…well, Roman would _say_ he looks dead but he’s seen Remus’s impression of being dead. It’s…frighteningly good. But this…this isn’t that.

Remus looks _empty._

Roman gathers him up and takes him to the Imagination, to their secret place that the two of them used to run around in, back before the Split. He holds Remus as tightly as he dares and promises to never let go, to never leave, he loves him _so much, I promise._

“It’s not enough, Ro,” Remus drones against his shoulder, “you know It’s not enough.”

Roman buries his head in the crook of Remus’s neck. “I know, Re. But it’s all we’ve got.”

“…does it have to be?”

_No. No, it doesn’t. You deserve better than that._

He rocks his brother back and forth in his lap and gently offers to go on an adventure with Remus. Whatever he wants to do. Roman’s up for it. Remus just snuffles into his neck with a ‘maybe later.’ It’s not too much of a surprise when Remus dozes off, right there in his brother’s arms.

Roman thinks. He can come up with something for Remus to show him that he loves him, right? What would be good…are there any games that they used to play? Are there any games that had come out recently?

Oh, yes! He remembers Remus bounding into the living room a few weeks ago, rambling about a new multi-player horror game Thomas had seen an ad for in passing. It was called…oh, what was it called?

Roman lays Remus down gently in his bed and sinks to his room, going right to his desk. He types in ‘multiplayer horror games’ and scrolls until he sees one that rings a bell. Ah! There it is, ‘GTFO.’

…well, if a brief scan of the description is anything to go by, this seems _right_ up Remus’s alley.

He gets to work, scouring the internet for as much information as he can find, watching let’s plays, lore dumps, anything he can get his hands on. By the time he enters the Imagination, he’s brimming with excitement.

This’ll be fun.

He can’t get it all done in one night, as much as he’d like to, but he makes a very good start.

It’s a shame all that enthusiasm is dulled by a dull grey ache when he sees his brother stabbing halfheartedly at his breakfast of…some type of meat the next morning as the others talk happily around the table. He reaches out, gives his brother’s hand a squeeze. When Remus sinks out, he sighs, setting his mug back on the table with a hard _thud._

He’s not Patton, he’s not Logan, he’s not Virgil, he’s not Janus. But he can sure as hell make them listen when he wants to. Maybe that’ll be enough.

He tells them that they _really_ should be paying more attention to the others. That it’s not _his_ fault the others haven’t seen how _obviously_ upset Remus is. How he’s still getting used to the idea that _maybe,_ just _maybe_ he’ll be listened to at the best of times. How they’re supposed to be a whole, maybe they should _try_ that.

He leaves to go comfort his brother before they can say anything.

He spends all night working in the Imagination, trying to get everything just right, only to have someone knock on his door in the morning.

Two dead crows lie outside his door.

Roman smiles.

_Two for joy._

It worked.

Patton has a kitchen full to bursting and no shortage of helping hands. Janus has more warm things and kind ears than ever. Remus has an interested audience and a brother that _wants_ him around. Virgil has a steady support network. And Logan…Logan has far more data than he’ll ever need, he knows he’s loved, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him any more, he has his proof that he’s not broken. They’re a famILY.

Roman watches.

He watches the lovestruck look Patton and Logan give each other as they move around the kitchen. He watches Janus ruffle Virgil’s hair as he sits down behind him. He watches Remus wrap his arms around Logan and refuse to let go, watches Patton and Janus chuckle at Logan’s feeble protests. Watches them all lie sprawled out on the couch around Virgil, covering his face and neck with kisses. Watches them together, happy, _glowing._

The fire in Roman’s chest fizzles and dies.

They’re happy. That’s…that’s good. That’s what he wanted.

He wants them happy.

And…really, he’s taken—he’s taken so much from his brother, over the course of _years._ He’s made his brother so miserable, so lonely, so _upset_ that he can’t take this away from him. He won’t. Whatever it takes.

Because they’re a family. And he’ll do anything for them.

* * *

Patton hugs Remus as he comes downstairs in the morning. “Hey, kiddo! You wanna help?”

“Ooh, can we put maggots in this time?”

Patton giggles. “Why don’t you make _two_ batches, one with and one without?”

Remus gets to work and Patton asks if he’d like a mug of their special drink.

“What’s that?”

Patton’s smile falters only for a moment. “You know…the one you made me that morning? The warm milk with vanilla syrup?”

Remus cocks his head to the side, flour still hanging off his mustache. “Don’t think I’ve ever had that. But I’ll give it a try!”

“Oh, okay!”

“Can I put maggots in mine?”

“If you want.”

Virgil cuddles up to Remus on the couch, passing him an earbud. He lays his head on the sash, nuzzling his cheek into the fabric. Strange…he kinda remembered this being softer.

“What do you think,” he mumbles at Remus, sleep already taking hold of him, “what song do you wanna mashup to this one?”

“Unadulterated screaming?”

Virgil snorts. “No, really.”

“Dunno. I’d have to think about it.” Remus taps his fingers on Virgil’s head. “Just kinda sounds like a song right now.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“So, what do you wanna dream about?”

“ _No,_ Remus.”

“Psh. Party pooper.”

Janus meets Remus outside the Imagination and offers him his hand. “Care to dance?”

“Sure!”

Janus blinks. “Really?”

Remus pulls him into the Imagination, onto a stage that looks straight out of a horror movie. “Yeah, nope rope, I’ll dance with you. Gonna have to show me how, though, it’s been a while!”

Janus does, walking them carefully through the steps, until Remus loudly announces that he’s got a better idea and just…picks Janus up, slings him over his shoulders, and starts…doing something.

“What—how are you—“

“I’m dancing,” Remus chortles gleefully, spinning around, “with you!”

“It _absolutely_ counts if I’m up here,” Janus says through gritted teeth, holding on for dear life.

“Then come down and do it with me!”

Logan walks up to Roman’s door and knocks. It takes a moment for Roman to appear.

“Logan! What can I do for you?”

“Not much,” Logan says, missing the way Roman shuffles in the doorway, “I’m simply here to tell you I don’t need you to record any more of those videos for me.”

“…you don’t?”

“No.” Logan smiles. He _smiles._ “I have come to the conclusion that I don’t need to conduct the experiment anymore.”

“Oh, Logan that’s—that’s wonderful.”

“Well, it seems slightly useless now,” he says, shrugging and glancing over his shoulder, back to where the laughter of the others drifts up from the living room, “I know I’m not—I no longer have issues with forming personal attachments.”

When he looks back, Roman’s got a small smile on his face. Logan raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Roman says quickly, “I’m just—I’m really happy for you, Logan. _All_ of you.”

“We _are_ happy,” Logan repeats, almost as if he doesn’t believe it, a little giddy, “we are. And now…now I can fill my time with things that will be of more use.”

Roman smiles again, bids him a good day, and gently closes the door. Logan goes back downstairs and runs almost _smack_ into Remus.

“Nerdy Wolverine!”

“You’ve used that one already,” Logan points out, accepting the mug of coffee from Virgil with a nod.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” Remus bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet. “Speaking of which, can we have our brainstorm session now?”

Logan blinks, lowering his mug. “That isn’t until tomorrow, Remus.”

“No, _Roman’s_ is tomorrow. Ours is today?”

Ah. That’s right. “My apologies. Let me go get my notes.”

“Yay!”

The brainstorm session goes well, or at least, Remus thinks so. But something feels…a little off. Not like _big_ off, like it was before, but just…something.

Well, he knows where to go for help.

“Ro-bro!” Remus all but tackles him onto his bed. “I need your help!”

“And I need oxygen,” Roman wheezes from under him, “get _up._ ”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Well, if you want my help—“

_“Fine._ ” Remus sits on the end of Roman’s bed, waiting impatiently for Roman to ease himself into a sitting position. It takes him a bit longer than normal, he must’ve gotten bruised up in a fight again. “The others are being weird.”

“What?” Roman’s head snaps around. “What do you mean? Are they hurting you?”

“What? Nah, they’re just…forgetting things? It’s not much, but, I, uh…” Remus twists his hands together. “…just wanna make sure.”

“I’ll go talk to them,” Roman promises, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”

So he makes the rounds, only to be told that no, they’re fine, he doesn’t need to worry, it’s not his job to do that, they can always talk to Remus about it, right? He tells Remus everything’s okay, because it is.

Everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be the ending if it wasn’t okay.

It’s okay that he spent hours and _hours_ trying to pick out the right color book with the pretty bindings and wrote everything out painstakingly with a cute pen and attached it in a little loop so Patton wouldn’t lose it or the book, and he knows he’ll never put that dedication he’s been writing and rewriting for _ages_ inside the front cover, it’s better off without it anyway.

It’s okay that he looks at the plushie that he has many many pricked fingers from and the fabric he spent days researching and getting right so it wouldn’t cause any irritation and the burns he has from the prototypes for the heating element, and he knows it won’t ever get cuddled, it’s not any good for that anyway.

It’s okay that he goes back to the playlist that he edited until his ears bled and his eyes ached and knows it won’t ever be played, it’s not very good for calming down or background noise anyway.

It’s okay that the GTFO mock-up he spent ages coding and debugging until he finally got the gooshers that are _gross_ and disgusting and cause life-threatening, game-ending infections to work perfectly will never have anyone set foot into them, it’s not creative enough anyway.

It’s okay that he researched to hell and back to make sure he had enough well-sourced articles and journals for his paper and knows it will never be read because it’s not needed anymore, that Logan’s not ‘broken,’ he wouldn’t want it anyway.

It’s okay because they don’t need it.

They have enough already.

It’s enough already.

It’s enough.

...it’s enough.

He looks at the computer and he knows what he has to do.

Because, really, it was never for _them,_ was it? It was all for Roman, wanting them to feel guilty enough by accepting his gifts to keep him around, when it’s pretty clear they don’t want him, not like that.

He’s been working for _himself,_ not for Thomas.

He has to work for Thomas.

But before that…he can do one last thing for himself.

* * *

“Patton?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

Roman holds out his hand. “Will you come bake with me, please?”

“Of course!” Patton takes Roman’s hand and swings it as they walk toward the kitchen. “What d’you wanna make?”

“Actually I was, um, I was wondering if I could just…watch.”

Patton pauses. “…sure, kiddo, you can watch, is, um…are you okay?”

Roman flashes a smile. “Never better! I just, well, I’m having trouble thinking and I’m not sure I should be baking. It’s just enough to be with you.”

“Aw, Roman! That’s so sweet!”

So Roman sits there, watching Patton hum and mix and pop the tray in the oven, coming over to give him a hug. Roman makes it a good one.

“Virgil?”

Virgil plucks an earbud out. “What’s up?”

“Can we…sit together? Just for a bit?”

“Sure. Pull up a chair.”

Roman sits at the foot of the couch, his head leaned back. If he closes his eyes, he can hear Virgil’s music playing faintly. He doesn’t sing along, doesn’t try and sing any other songs, just…just listens. Virgil picked a good one.

“Remus?”

Remus wipes a massive glob of something Roman would rather not name off his forehead. “Ro-bro!”

Roman summons his katana. “Come fight with me?”

“Hell yeah!”

They tear into the Imagination as Remus summons some great beast. They move together like clockwork, tossing barbs back and forth at each other as they work to bring the beast down. It’s exhilarating, the speed at which they move, the roar of the beast, drunk on the adrenaline. It’s a good one.

“Janus?”

Janus raises an eyebrow and turns. “Yes?”

Roman swallows, holding out a trembling hand. “…will you dance with me?”

Janus’s eyes widen. Roman holds himself still until a gloved hand takes his.

“I would be honored, my prince.”

Roman hadn’t been lying about being out of practice, but compared to Janus…well, he feels like a newborn calf, trying to just get used to _having_ legs. Janus guides him through it, hands just this side of too firm, voice soft and smiling in his ear as they turn about the floor. And even though he abhors it, he looks at Janus dead in the eyes, hoping that maybe…maybe the Lord of the Lies will see how many Roman is drowning in.

He doesn’t. And that’s okay.

He records one last video. Then he puts all of the carefully and meticulously planned out things onto a storage drive and wipes them from his computer. He takes the physical presents and puts them somewhere they’ll be out of the way until he can bear to touch them long enough to get rid of them. This job is done. It has served its purpose.

And it’s okay.

* * *

Patton thanks Remus for the new recipe book, he’s never seen some of these recipes before! Remus didn’t get it for him, maybe Logan, that’s some pretty penmanship. Logan doesn’t know who it’s from either, but that’s fine, he’s happy to help. And maybe it’s better _not_ knowing who it’s from, that makes it more fun, right?

Janus opens his door to find a large snake plushie outside his room. He brings it inside and _oh,_ it’s so soft, it smells like the forest, and…it’s _heated?_ He spends a few hours cuddling the plushie tightly to his chest, rumbling happily as he rubs his scales against the plush snake’s face. He thanks Remus for it, he _doesn’t_ appreciate it at all. Remus has no idea where it came from, maybe Virgil? But no, Virgil doesn’t know where it’s from either.

They convene and show off their gifts, saying how _happy_ they are to have great partners, but no one confesses to either of them. Even Janus can’t tell. Well, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

Thomas summons them in the afternoon. They all appear, ready to work, except for Roman.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming, hold on!”

Thomas’s eyes widen when Roman appears with not one but _four_ binders, each balanced more precariously on top of the last. He wobbles, trying to make sure they don’t fall, setting them down at his feet and beaming at them.

“My sincere apologies for my tardiness!” He sweeps a hand down at the pile. “Had to get everything in order.”

“Are those…” Logan adjusts his glasses. “Are those all ideas?”

“What else would they be, Pocket Protector?” Roman winks. “Family fun creativity _is_ my job after all.”

Logan simply nods, holding out his hand. Roman passes the first one over, giving a brief description of the ideas. And, well, they’re good. They’re pretty solid ideas. He gestures to Remus and Remus snatches up another one, opening it and producing a pen from…somewhere.

“You’ve certainly been busy,” he snorts, elbowing Roman in the side. Everyone freezes when Roman hisses through his teeth. “…Ro-bro?”

“Sorry,” Roman grunts, standing up straight again and smiling, “a little bruised.”

“Did you get into a fight again, kiddo,” Patton scolds, “you’re gonna make me worry!”

Roman laughs. “Oh, Padre, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do! You’re my kiddo!”

“I’m just as old as you,” Roman says gently, “and I can look after myself. Plus, I’m sure you have more important things to worry about.” He winks.

It gets lost in a whirlwind of Logan and Roman tossing ideas back and forth. Only Virgil and Janus keep an eye on him until Patton smiles and nods that he’s okay.

“I gotta say,” Thomas says as the session winds to a close, “I’m impressed, Roman.”

“Well, it’s my job!” Roman gathers up the binders. “What would I be if not useful?”

“Oh, uh, that reminds me—“ Thomas turns to Patton— “have you been, uh, feeling weird lately?”

Patton tilts his head to the side. “Not particularly, kiddo, why, what’s up?”

“I dunno, I just…” Thomas shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself, “something in my chest has been hurting recently, and I…don’t know what it is.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “When did it start?”

“It, uh, well…” Thomas shuffles. “It used to be worse.”

“Worse?”

“Like…a few months ago? It used to be _worse_ , like…it would flare up almost every day. Then it…changed.” Thomas places a hand on his chest. “It started to feel…warmer?”

“Okay,” Patton encourages, “and how does it feel now?”

“Like…like I’m hollow, kind of,” Thomas says slowly, “but it still hurts. It got _really_ bad a few days ago.”

“How bad,” Virgil asks warily.

“…felt like someone was ripping my heart out.”

“Oh, Thomas,” Patton cries, flapping anxiously, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t—“

“No, no, Pat, it’s not your fault, and it’s better now, it doesn’t hurt as much right now.”

“Do you have any idea what may have caused it,” Logan asks, “anything at all?”

“No! I haven’t been doing anything, I can’t go outside because of—“

“Reasons.”

“—yeah, and it’s not like anything _other_ than…that has happened to me.”

Virgil shakes his head slowly. “Well, if anyone would know what’s up with your heart, it’s Patton.”

Patton falters. He looks anxiously from one face to another, then to the ground. “I…I don’t know what it is…I _don’t._ ”

“Whoa, hey,” Thomas says quickly, “it’s okay. We’ll all figure it out. Together. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?”

“We’ll be here for you, Patton,” Logan says firmly, “always.”

“…just let me know if it gets worse,” Patton says finally, looking back at Thomas, “yeah?”

Thomas nods. “Sure thing, buddy. Well, I think that’s everything.”

“We’ll see you for filming next week, barring any emergencies,” Logan says, beginning to sink out. The others wave goodbye and do the same.

Roman is left alone in the living room with Thomas, still trying to get his binders back in order.

“You, uh, you need some help there?”

He looks up and smiles. “Nope! Just need to make sure I know what’s where.”

“I’m really proud of you, Roman,” Thomas says softly, smiling when Roman fumbles with the binders a little.

“You are?”

“Yeah, bud.” Thomas gestures at the pile. “That’s a lot of great work.”

Roman’s smile dims, just a bit as he looks back down at the binders. “…yeah.”

“Will you, uh, will you look after them?” Thomas gestures to the now empty spots where the others were. “They seemed a bit…different.”

Roman’s face solidifies into a look of determination and he nods. “You have my word I will.”

He sinks out.

Thomas sighs, ready to go do something else when he catches sight of something where Roman was standing. He frowns, going over and picking it up. He turns it over in his fingers.

It’s a hard drive. Unlabeled. Looks brand new. Must’ve fallen out of Roman’s grip? Or maybe he just forgot it.

Either way, he shrugs and puts in on the kitchen counter, missing the way it sinks out too.

* * *

After the meeting with Thomas, Logan sits down on the couch with his laptop, his notes beside him. Janus lounges on the floor in the sunlight, his head in Patton’s lap. Remus and Virgil are on the floor, playing some version of Uno that involves switching cards and hands and—it’s complicated.

Virgil gets up, stretching, and asks if anyone wants something from the kitchen. A few murmured replies and he heads off. Logan frowns at his screen, deletes a few words, and ducks when something gets tossed at his head.

“Don’t leave your shit lying around, L,” Virgil calls as he sits back down, “you’re gonna lose it.”

Logan looks. It’s a hard drive. He picks it up. He doesn’t recognize it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not his. The label could’ve just fallen off. He plugs it into his laptop and runs a security scan. No malware detected.

He clicks on the icon and the drive opens, revealing five folders, each with one of their names. He tilts his head. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s made collections of his observations before, now would it?

He opens Patton’s. There’s a recipe list, maybe he was looking for something?

He opens Remus’s, there’s a program he’s never seen before and several stills of…what look like aliens of some sort, taken over by a parasitic infection.

He opens Janus’s, there’s a list of fabric types and what look like blueprints for some sort of…heating device?

He opens Virgil’s, there’s a bunch of audio files and drafts of what look like cover art.

He relays this to the others and they want him to send them their folders if he can, so he does. They disperse to read through them, each promising to come back if they find anything interesting.

He opens his own and he finds two folders, one labeled ‘Experiment_Logs’ and one labeled ‘Research’.

The ‘Research’ folder is _filled_ with articles discussing aromanticism and asexuality, including discourse surrounding their communities, their stigmatization, and representation. He’s so absorbed with reading that he doesn’t notice Patton tearing into the kitchen, his new recipe book in hand.

His favorite is a paper that discusses the unfair representation of ace/aro characters within media spaces, and the unfair balance put on romantic attraction versus platonic attraction. It’s witty and clever while being very well articulated and backed up by several sources. Curiously enough, when he looks to see if they’ve written anything else he can’t find the author or the paper anywhere, maybe he didn’t save the source? He’ll have to go back and look for it later.

He blinks when he opens the logs folder and finds a bunch of videos, all labeled with dates, and Roman’s face as the thumbnail.

This…this is _Roman’s._

These are his logs.

Well…one can never have too much data…even if he _did_ discard the experiment as useless…right?

Before he can do anything, there’s a clattering from the kitchen. He barely has enough time to look up before he has to quickly set his laptop aside and ends up with a lapful of an upset Patton.

  
  
“Dear heart,” he soothes, “what’s wrong, what’s happened?”

Another _pop._ Good, he’s no good at this by himself, he needs—

Patton whines, making grabby hands at Remus over his shoulder. Remus wraps his arms around both of them, his face drawn and Logan getting more confused by the moment.

Then Virgil appears, headphones in, perching on the back of the couch.

Then Janus, his arms wrapped tightly around his plush snake, face buried resolutely in the back of it, looking _absolutely fine._

“May I inquire as to what has you all looking so disconcerted?”

“My recipe book, Logan,” Patton mumbles from somewhere in Remus’s arms, “I know who it’s from now.”

_Ah, they must’ve had a similar realization._

“I believe Roman is the owner of this drive.”

“No shit,” Virgil mutters,

“Language, kiddo.” But they can all tell Patton’s heart isn’t in the scolding.

“He…he made a playlist for me,” Virgil mutters, “with mash-ups that he made.”

“This plush _isn’t_ from him,” Janus says, hugging it tighter.

“He made me a thing too!” Remus growls, hugging Patton tighter. “But I can’t figure out how to open it!”

“I, uh,” Virgil says, fidgeting with his hoodie strings, “I went to go knock on his door, see where he was…he’s not there but I, uh, I found something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s one of the things that fell out of the binder he showed us.” Virgil fishes it out of his hoodie. “An idea for a song but all he has is the last line.”

“What…what’s the last line?”

“ **‘** _The moral of this story is that no matter how much we try, no matter how much we want it…some stories just don’t have a happy ending._ ** _’_** ”

Silence falls in the living room.

“But,” Logan tries, “isn’t he the one who keeps saying if it’s not okay, it’s not the end?”

“Which is why I’m confused as hell!”

“Yeah!” Patton agrees, “there was a whole dedication he was gonna put in my book for me, I don’t know why he didn’t! It’s super sweet! And then I would’ve known it was from him!”

Then it hits them.

Why _didn’t_ he send them this stuff? And if he did, why didn’t he say it was from him?

“Logan,” Virgil says after a minute, “what’d you get?”

He leans over and sees that Logan’s got _two_ folders.

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

“Please, it’s hardly anything interesting. Just some videos I had him record to help me with an experiment.”

“Can we watch them with you?”

“It _is_ movie night.”

And at this point, he’s a little ashamed about what the experiment _was,_ but what better way to reassure himself that it wasn’t needed?

The first few are easy.

Roman looks bright and happy and he talks to the camera like he’s talking directly to Logan, to the point where it…kind of feels like intruding on a private conversation but not too much. He _does_ tell him that he thinks this experiment is a little…unorthodox, especially when using it to evaluate one’s own ability to form attachments.

Logan flushes because _he never told him that’s what it was for._

Roman’s sentiment is quickly echoed by the other sides and they all huddle a little closer to him on the couch, despite his weak protests. But it’s quite nice, he has to admit, listening to Roman talk. And he’s not shy about peppering in compliments, saying how happy he is about Patton’s baking skills, how incredible Remus’s passion is, how exhaustingly fun Janus is, everything.

He says that he’s happy to be a part of the experiment and that it’s okay if he doesn’t feel like he knows how to form attachments and feel them yet, he’ll be there to care and love for him, and he’s sure the others will too. They can feel themselves relaxing, watching the video, just _feeling_ Roman’s emotion through the screen.

The next one makes them all get even closer, because he’s talking about how all of them feel a little less loved than they’d like to be.

“So it wasn’t just me that told Roman that,” Virgil mutters, “that make this a _little_ better.”

“Does it,” Patton whispers, “does it really?”

Roman talks about how he’s making little things for all of them, just because he’s noticed gift-giving is pretty high up on all of their love languages, and to reassure them that he’s here, he’ll love and care for them until they figure things out for themselves.

They all clutch their gifts—if they can—a little tighter at that.

A few videos in and he’s bursting with excitement. They quickly figure out why; turns out this was filmed just after Virgil and Patton first got together, a few days before they told everyone else.

“I mean,” Roman says happily, flapping his hands, “you’ll be seeing this after they’ve told you so I’m definitely not betraying them. Who knows, maybe by then the rest of you will have gotten your heads out of your asses.”

_Wait, what?_

He moves on pretty quickly and it drifts to the back of Logan’s mind.

Roman mentions that he’s spending more time with Logan, Janus, and Remus because Virgil and Patton are in a relationship now and it’s a little weird, but it’s okay.

Virgil, meanwhile, has been turned into a flustered emo mess because _was he really that obviously pining?_ They shift, scooping Virgil into Patton’s arms as the rest of them huddle in close. Patton plants a kiss right in the middle of Virgil’s forehead as Roman’s image on the screen keeps talking, saying that it’s nice to see the two of them so happy!

It’s here, though, that Logan sees the first jump cut.

Roman mentioned in the first video that he’d do his best to edit down the videos just for ease of consumption, mostly the times where he’s just trying to ‘make his words machine go,’ so to speak.

But in this video, it’s the first one where it seems apparent, like they’re missing something pretty important.

He doesn’t mention it because the next one starts with Roman saying the same thing he’s done in all of them—a simple: “Hi, Logan!”—except this one is in that voice that’s so gentle and soft it makes his chest ache.

Ah. This is the one after his…breakdown.

“Hi, Logan,” Roman says softly, “you, um…well, actually, you just left.”

He gestures at the bed somewhere off-camera.

“You were very upset, Specs, and you…you looked so _hopeless._ ” Roman wipes his eyes. “And I guess…I guess I just want to tell you that it’s okay.”

Patton whines, reaching for Logan. Logan can’t take his eyes off the screen.

“You’re enough, Logan,” Roman continues, the recording oblivious to the distress it’s causing, “you’ve _always_ been enough. Not—not Logic, even though yes, Logic is important, but _you,_ just _you…you’re_ more than enough for us. For me.”

Logan swallows heavily.

“No one expects perfection from you.” Roman smiles, a watery smile. “I know, it sounds…it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. We don’t expect perfection from you, perfection is…an unreasonable request, especially from us. You’re allowed to have emotions, you’re allowed to be imperfect, _it’s okay._ ”

Arms wind around his waist and a scaled hand slips into his.

“It’s the same complaint we have about Vulcans, remember? By believing you don’t _have_ emotional decisions, only logical ones, you’ve rationalized your emotional decisions _as_ logical ones. This will only make you more susceptible to them.”

“True,” comes the quiet murmurs from beside him.

“It _hurt,_ Logan,” Roman whispers, “it hurt me to see you like that, not that I’m blaming you, of course not, and I’m so _glad_ you came to me, but I…I wish I could help you understand.”

“Understand what,” Logan whispers before he can stop himself.

“Understand that you don’t have to hide it,” Roman says as if he can hear him, “that you don’t have to hide away the parts of yourself that don’t meet the perfect image of what you want to be, that you think are unwanted. They’re not, Logan, I promise.”

_Oh, dear…_

“I’ll be here,” Roman promises, “I will _always_ be here for you until you have the courage to stand and be comfortable in your own skin.”

“So will we,” Patton mumbles to various noises of agreement. Logan has so many arms around him now he’s got no idea which ones are whose, all he can do is stare at Roman’s face on the screen.

“I’m putting together something for you,” Roman says, “aside from these logs. I…I think it’ll help.”

He smiles. Reaches out to turn off the camera.

Logan draws a shuddering breath.

“Why don’t we take a break,” Patton suggests, his voice a little strangled too.

Logan swallows the lump in his throat. “I concur.”

When they’re all ready to keep going, they play the next one. It’s just after Logan officially announced he’s going to be part of their relationship. And he’s happy for him, so clearly, but there are a few more jump cuts that Logan notices, each a little more obvious than the last.

Roman mentions how he’s spending more time with Janus and Remus and he’s a little worried about them, throws in a joke about maybe being more concerned than he needs to be just because he’s spending more time with them, the undercurrent of _why_ goes unsaid.

And it…hits strangely.

A few videos later they get to the one just after Janus joined, and the happiness isn’t any less bright, but the video is…shorter than the others.

The next one takes them all a little by aback because he’s clearly frustrated.

“…you guys _really_ don’t pay much attention to things, do you?” Roman runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Like…at _all._ When it doesn’t suit your immediate needs.”

Remus starts to shift a bit uncomfortably and Janus swoops in to cuddle him closer.

“You guys have to _talk_ to each other,” Roman says finally, “and not just to me. That—that’s _so_ important and I can’t—I’m not—it’s not _enough_ to just talk to me.”

He mutters something that sounds a little like ‘that’s not even my job.’

“And _listening!_ ” Roman throws his hands up. “You guys—you guys gotta start listening. It’s not enough to just _say_ you’re in a relationship, or even say you’re a _family,_ you’ve got to _work_ to keep it that way. _”_

Remus makes a noise and no one else can. They huddle closer, but not out of a warm need to feel the others. Now they need to reassure themselves that the others are here.

Like before, he says he’ll be there to love and care until they don’t need it anymore, but he says it about _Remus._ The room grows colder.

There are only two videos left.

The next one is the first one where they can _all_ immediately tell something’s a little off. It’s after they _all_ got together, and he’s happy, he looks happy, but there’s something else behind his eyes.

“I’m almost finished with, um—“ Roman glances at something off-camera— “well, I’m almost at the end of something, so I don’t know how much longer this experiment will run, but I, um…I hope it’s good.”

And he mentions that he’s been doing other things, like he’s prepping for something, and none of them have any idea what he’s talking about.

It’s right about now that they realize they _really_ haven’t seen a lot of Roman since they all got together.

There are more jump cuts, obvious ones. Something’s missing.

In the last segment, his nose is a little redder and his eyes are a little swollen but he ends it with a cheery wave, just like all the others.

There’s only one video left.

The instant it opens, even before they click play, all of them know something’s wrong.

For starters, he’s wrapped up in a big, fluffy jacket that Patton recognizes instantly as the one he left in Roman’s room after one of their late-night talks.

For another, he’s not in the desk chair like he was before, he’s on the floor.

For a third, this one isn’t labeled with a date, it’s just the default file name his phone assigned to it.

Logan hits the play button. Roman doesn’t speak right away, and when he does, it sounds _awful._

“It’s funny, I still have the urge to start this with: ‘Hi, Logan!’ even though I know you’re not going to see this.”

He sniffs.

“…in fact, you’re not going to see any of them.”

Oh.

_Oh._

_Oh, no._

“I just, uh—“ Roman swallows heavily— “you just came and found me and told me that this…um, that you’re scrapping the experiment. That it’s useless.”

“And I, uh, I can’t deny that part of me is very happy that you don’t need to scientifically prove that you can have attachments or that you need some empirical method to know how to do it, or something.”

Roman tries to smile but it falls flat.

“…the other part of me knows that means time’s up.”

He blinks, long and slow.

“You guys have each other now,” he mumbles, “and you always have, but now…now you _know_ you do. And that’s great and wonderful and you’ve more than earned it—even though we beat the word deserve over the head with a crowbar in this house—and it’s…it’s great.”

“And that means it’s time for me to go.”

One of them cries out, they don’t know who.

“I, um, should’ve known after Logan came to me. I mean, _really_ I kinda knew the second Virgil and Patton got together…”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“…and if I’m really being honest, I…I think I always knew.”

He sits up a little straighter, looking at the camera with a soft fury.

“But this is my job. This is how it goes. It’s just…it’s a little different now,” he says softly, “I’m not going to lie. It was harder, at first, I think, especially when I, um, suddenly had to get used to not being able to spend as much time with Virgil or Patton. Then there were _four_ of you and I—I knew it wasn’t fair to try and stop it. Not that I was going to, I just…I know how these go.”

He nods to himself.

“…and Remus gets to stay. I’m not taking that away from him, or from you guys, I mean…to you, it’ll just be like the stories where the best friend helps everyone figure out what they want. Remus will stay, he’s…he’s _good_.”

The implications go unsaid of what precisely that means for _Roman._

“It’s okay,” he says instead, “you’ve already started forgetting me. Like you’re supposed to.”

It’s not just one person that cries out this time.

“You, uh…you didn’t remember who does what with you guys. You don’t remember which one of us you’re actually talking to, you—you normally think it’s him. You don’t…he’s not…you haven’t _noticed._ ”

Roman _shrinks,_ curling up into the thick jacket, letting the soft fabric almost swallow his form. Even though the camera is close, close enough that they can see the concealer heaped on his face, close enough that they can see it fading in places and the bags under his eyes, his red-rimmed eyes, he looks so _small._

“I, um, I’ve already started my goodbyes,” Roman says after a minute. “I…I baked with Patton. Well, I sat and watched. He’s better at it than me anyway.”

“I convinced Virgil to have another ‘sit in companionable silence’ thing, with…with music. Not the playlist, just…his music.”

“I, um, I got to fight with Remus. Not sparring, we uh, well… _he_ summoned an army of these tentacle things that look like a hybrid between a disemboweled goat and a jellyfish? They looked really freaking cool. It was…nice to fight side by side. Even if it was just once.”

_“…_ I danced with Janus. And for the record, even though literally no one’s gonna see this, ever, it is not fair that he gets to dance that well, okay? It’s not. It’s just not.” Roman smiles ruefully. _“…_ he, uh, didn’t figure out why I don’t like dancing, though…guess he wasn’t really paying that much attention.”

Something crosses his face.

_“_ …maybe none of you were.”

He sniffles.

“Or maybe you were paying attention and just…didn’t care. I, uh, this hasn’t exactly been my most _subtle_ of leavings.”

A pause. A clock ticks somewhere far away. The Mindscape holds its breath.

“Oh, and Logan, I, um…I haven’t said goodbye to _you_ yet. I…to be honest, I wasn’t really planning on it…I was, um, I was just gonna hope we could…you know, stay a little closer because of the experiment.”

He blinks and oh, oh, oh _no._

“Sorry…I guess that’s what the rest of me thinks about you calling it off.”

Roman smiles and it’s clear how much it _aches_ and he wipes his face.

“I…I haven’t figured out how I’m saying goodbye to you yet. I…debated sending you these videos anyway but now…now they feel like a guilt trip so I’m not going to. Maybe I’ll just send you the packet I put together even though you said you don’t need it anymore, that you’re not broken.”

Something in his face twitches and he looks up at the camera with his eyes burning.

“But even though you’ll never see this, Logan? For the record? You were _never_ broken. You were _never_ broken, you understand? Even if you weren’t in a relationship right now, even if you were still struggling the way you were before, you _still wouldn’t be broken.”_

His gaze softens, just a little. “…trust me, okay?”

_Oh,_ **_no._ **

Roman’s jaw clenches and he sits up a little straighter. “And you know what, since you’re not gonna see this, I’m gonna do the rest of you.”

“Patton? You’re the strongest person I know. You—you work so hard to try and make everything the best you can and feelings are so _complicated_ and I know how much it must weigh on you, and I know—I know I haven’t helped with that, always looking to you for guidance and I want you to know that you’re _amazing._ You’re stronger than most people I know and it takes so much strength to be soft in a world that wants nothing more than to harden you.”

“And Virgil? Virgil, you—you blow me away every day. You’re incredible. And I don’t tell you that often enough. You’re always keeping an eye out for _everyone_ and you—you underestimate yourself. You’re the one who responds _first_ when things really need to be done and I don’t know what we’d do without you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Janus, I—I don’t even know where to _start._ You’re…god, I really don’t know where to start. You do what needs to be done when…when no one else will…or when no one else knows _how_ and…and you’ve kept us _safe…_ and even when we don’t want to listen to you you _make_ us and it’s so…you…you…we couldn’t do this without you.”

“…Remus, you’re my _brother._ I—the _worst_ moment of my life was having you ripped away from me. You’re strong in ways I will never be and I will never stop admiring you for that. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too much, you understand? _Ever._ I’ll smite them. I will. You’re _my_ brother and I never want you to forget it.”

Roman stops, breathing hard. His chest stutters as he does, his breath coming out in little whines, something making it difficult to breathe. He winces, flattens a hand to somewhere out of frame, and when he looks at his hand, he winces again.

Is…is he bleeding?

“I’m…I’m not going to give out the other things,” he mumbles, looking back up at the camera, “the plushie and the recipe book I had to because I couldn’t look at them anymore. But the others I’m gonna put on a hard drive and delete.”

He swallows, shifting around in the coat. “I, um…I just can’t look at _them_ anymore either.”

“And that’s okay,” he continues, “it’s okay, really, it is. You guys are happy. That’s all that’s important. Everything is okay…right? That’s what you always say to calm us—calm _them_ down. Everything is…okay.”

He looks down.

“Endings don’t have to be happy,” he whispers, almost too quiet to hear, “they just have to be okay.”

A dog barks. It’s impossible to tell whether or not it’s from the recording.

“…and I haven’t lost anything. You were never mine to lose, never mine in the first place. Nothing has been lost. It’s okay.”

His shoulders tremble.

“…it’s okay.”

After a very long pause, he looks back up.

“I think I know how I’m gonna say goodbye to you, Logan. I, um, in that packet, I put one of my papers in there. It’s um, it’s the one I was writing. And I’m not gonna tell you it’s mine.”

He takes a deep breath.

“…yeah…that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He closes his eyes, then opens them, smiles, and places his hand on his chest. “I regret that I could not be of more use to you.”

The smile falters and his hand clutches at his shirt.

“…and because I really can’t help myself, for what it’s worth? People who will never see this? You’re enough. You’re always enough. The others will remind you of it if you forget and I…I will always love you. In whatever capacity you would like that to be. If…if you ever get into a really bad space and think that no one could ever or would ever love you…I will. And there are no strings attached to that. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to say it. You don’t have to love me back.”

Roman tilts his head and for just a second, for _just_ a second, he looks almost normal.

“…be gentle with yourselves, please? There’s only one of each of you. I’d hate to see the universe lose it.”

He kisses his fingertips and waves to the camera.

“…goodbye.”

Then he leans forward to stop the recording.

_No one_ is okay, thank you very much.

Patton started sobbing almost a quarter of the way through.

Virgil’s bunched up so tight his entire body is basically giant clenched muscle.

Janus has grabbed literally anyone and everyone.

Remus is about to chew _through_ his morningstar.

And that line about him regretting that he couldn’t be of more use _broke_ Logan.

It was already bad enough when he said Remus was _good_ and he _wasn’t_ but _that…_ because he remembers that tone, those words…even if they came from a different face.

Well, the same face, but—

You know.

The cuddle pile quickly becomes group-cry-it-out time, everyone clinging to everyone else because the amount of pain is enough to drown them all, several times over.

If…if he’s saying what they think he’s saying, then…

What have they _done?_

When they’ve cried out all their tears, they’re too exhausted to move, lying over each other with blotchy faces, stuffed-up noses, and too much agony hanging in the air over them.

Then Remus quietly asks if they think he’d still show him how to run the program.

Then Patton says that the recipe book is really cool and he wants Roman to write the dedication in it.

Virgil mutters something about the playlist and it being really, _really_ cool.

Janus mumbles that he _doesn’t_ want to dance with him again so he can figure out why he doesn’t like it and _not_ so he can make it easier for him.

Logan says he wants to talk about the paper which was _excellent_ and he…he needs to apologize for implying that he was broken.

They all need to apologize.

But first…they need to rest.

They need to have all their words and minds right before they go and find him, lest he comfort _them_ and let himself slip away. They need to be in top form if they’re gonna turn the tables.

“Jeez, Specs, you make it sound like a battle.”

“Well, isn’t it? Can you think of a _single_ time you’ve comforted him without him also managing to comfort _you?”_

“…yeah okay.”

* * *

Thomas clutches his chest, almost falling to the floor. Something is _wrong._

“Thomas?”

“Roman—“ Thomas lurches forward, trying to get to the couch— “Roman, it—it’s back, it hurts, I can’t—“

“ _Breathe,_ Thomas,” Roman calls urgently, frozen in place as Thomas manages to collapse _mostly_ onto the couch, “okay, just breathe first, then we—then we can figure out what’s going on.”

Roman has no idea how long it takes to calm Thomas down, to have him breathe, but they make it. They make it.

“Why is it _back,_ ” Thomas mutters, rubbing fruitlessly at his chest, “it—it was going away…it was fading, I was _working,_ it was working…”

Roman watches helplessly, trying to figure out what to do.

He can’t exactly tell Thomas this is all _his fault,_ can he?

“Where—“ Thomas looks over at him— “where are the others?”

“I don’t know, did you summon them?”

“I—I think I just called out, did _you_ get summoned?”

“I would’ve shown up anyway, I’m not sure if I—“ _was he?_ — “I don’t think you summoned me, no.”

“…oh.” Thomas struggles into a seated position. “It’s…um, it’s kind of going away again.”

Roman glances around. The others still aren’t there.

“…I can go look for them,” he offers, “see if they know anything?”

Thomas nods. “…hurry back?”

“Of course.”

Roman sinks out, expecting to have to dash around to find everybody, hoping to anything he can that no one’s been hurt, that Remus hasn’t fallen into the wrong side of the Imagination again, that nothing’s really gone horribly wrong.

Instead, he happens upon a massive pile of the others, all clinging to each other like they’ve just been told Disney is about to be wiped from existence.

“Oh, oh, no,” Roman murmurs, rushing for them, “what’s wrong, my dears, what’s happened?”

He doesn’t expect Remus to snarl and leap for him, tackling him to the ground. He flails on instinct; did he do something wrong? Are they mad at him?

Did…did they find _out?_

“You _idiot,_ ” Remus growls, _“you fucking idiot._ ”

“I—I’m sorry,” Roman pants, “I’m sorry for whatever I did, I’ll fix it, I promise—“

“ _No,_ you fucking—you—“ Remus cries out, burying his face in Roman’s shoulder. “You _idiot._ ”

“What—“

The next wounded cry comes from Patton, who burrows in between the two brothers to wrap his arms around Roman almost tighter than Remus. Roman winces when his ribs squeal in protest, reaching for some warmth, something for them from the pit of his chest that’s been so cold, so empty since...god, he can’t remember.

He looks desperately at the others for _some_ kind of guidance only to see Janus and Virgil haul the three of them up, Virgil locking his arms around one of Roman’s legs and refusing to budge. Roman looks at Janus, begging him to _explain,_ please, only for Janus to reach out and cup his face and oh—oh, no, is Janus _crying?_

Have they _all_ been crying?

“My—my darlings,” Roman pants around the iron grips on his ribcage and the wind that got knocked right out of him— “please, please tell me what’s wrong.”

Only when he looks up at Logan does he understand.

Logan, who is still sitting on the couch, the only one who hasn’t moved yet.

Logan, whose face is streaked with tears, whose tie is horribly rumpled.

Logan, who holds his _hard drive_ in his hand.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Roman tries to get up, tries to rip it away, tries to _flee_ but he’s being held by so many, so many hands that he _can’t,_ he can’t move.

Logan sets the drive aside like it isn’t responsible for the atrocities that it’s done—which it isn’t, it’s still Roman’s fault—and crouches down beside the hostage prince, reaching out slowly, so slowly, to wrap his hand around the back of Roman’s neck and bring their foreheads together.

“Don’t—“ _Logan’s voice should never sound that heartbroken—_ “don’t leave us, Roman.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Virgil’s voice sounds from somewhere by his legs, “we won’t let you.”

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think we’re gonna,” Remus growls.

“My prince,” Janus murmurs, turning Roman’s head towards him, Roman beginning to shake, “my prince, how could you not _tell_ us?”

“Y-you—“ Roman swallows, why is his throat so dry?— “y-you were _happy._ Remus was _happy._ You all were—it was _okay._ ”

“No, it _wasn’t,”_ Remus cries, “it _wasn’t_ okay because _you_ weren’t okay. That means it wasn’t okay.”

“B-but I was!”

“No you fucking weren’t, we just watched those fucking videos—“

“You _what?_ ”

“And you were not okay!” Remus glares at Roman, his voice shaking. “You were in _pain,_ Roman and you—you let us—you let _me—_ “

“You let us replace you,” Logan murmurs, his voice still sounding utterly broken, “you let us overlook you, push you out of the way without even realizing it.”

Roman’s mouth makes shapes but no words come out.

“We’re your _family,_ ” Patton manages finally, “and y-you…you really thought we wouldn’t want you too?”

“But you didn’t!” Roman bursts out finally. “You didn’t! Y-you all said it wasn’t _enough,_ that _I_ wasn’t enough, and so—so you _found_ what was enough and it wasn’t—it was never—“

His voice cracks as all of his rage dissipate in an instant, leaving just the coldness of an empty hearth.

“…it was _never_ me.”

“Who did we go to,” Virgil asks fiercely, “who did we go to _every_ time? Because it wasn’t Patton, it wasn’t Logan, it wasn’t Remus, and it wasn’t Janus. And it _sure_ as hell wasn’t me.”

“It was you, my prince,” Janus murmurs, “it’s _always_ you.”

“And that wasn’t fair.” Patton squeezes him tightly. “That wasn’t fair and I’m so, _so sorry_ that none of us realized that.”

“I’m sorry as well,” Logan murmurs, “for…implying that you were not useful, and that your value hinged on your ability to _be_ useful.”

Janus turns his speechless head. “I’m sorry,” Janus says, “for _everything,_ but mostly for not doing my job: taking care of you.”

Virgil’s grip on his leg shifts slightly. “You’re always enough, Princey. And ‘m sorry if I haven’t made that clear.”

Roman looks frantically from one face to another, trying to figure out what’s happening, how he got here, how—how to stop the fire in his chest from reigniting and burning down the whole house.

Speaking of which…

“R-Re?”

Remus holds his face so tightly his cheeks smush together.

“You’re my fucking _brother,_ ” Remus says, his voice still shaking, “and if you think I was just going to sit here and let you be content with me taking _something else away from you,_ you are dead wrong.”

“… _you?_ T-taking from _me?_ ”

Remus softens, just a hair, stroking Roman’s cheeks. “…yeah, bro. I know what this means to you. We got the same shit, remember?”

And that, just that little reminder, is enough to make Roman shatter.

The fire rages so strongly he worries the others will feel it through his skin, consuming him so completely he’s about to fall into ashes.

He falls into the arms of the people who love him.

They hold him tightly, their strength never once wavering, their voices in his ears as they do, saying _we’re right here, we love you, you’re safe now, we have you, you’re enough, you’re more than enough, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay._

For the first time in a long time, when hearing those words, Roman starts to believe them.

When the tears come to an end and Roman’s cried out everything he possibly can, Janus will clean his face and touch him with such reverence that it might make him cry again. And that…that’s okay, because they’ll comfort him, and that’s…that’s _good._ And Janus will understand why Roman hates eye contact so much as he sees _everything._

Patton will sweep Roman into the kitchen and make them all the biggest batch of cookies he can while Roman sips from a mug of warm milk with vanilla syrup. And Patton will see just how many people can fit into this kitchen at once.

Virgil will still refuse to move further than a few inches away from Roman, pressed up against his side whenever possible, always there if Roman needs to reach out and reassure himself that this is real. And Virgil will realize how unsteady Roman can be when he’s not forcing himself to be strong.

Logan will fetch his _own_ notebook and copy down Roman’s words from the video, make sure he keeps them tucked somewhere safe in case they ever forget again, adding his own description of Roman. And Logan will watch the bruises that peek out from under Roman’s sleeves fade for the first time in months.

Remus will keep hold of his brother, not willing to separate even for an instant, still muttering about how _stupid_ that was, can’t Roman _see_ how much they all love him, how of _course_ he doesn’t mind sharing with his brother, they work so much better together. And Remus will feel a warmth under his hand that only they can feel as Roman slowly starts to thaw after _months_ of feeling cold.

Thomas will feel the pain in his chest recede as he sits up on the couch, his head tipping to rest against the back. Something’s changed. He doesn’t know if it’s for better or for worse, not right now, but he knows one thing.

It’s gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr:
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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